


Checking

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio takes a shot.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Checking

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Occasionally, Regis strays behind after the council meetings, waiting until all other witnesses have gone before he hobbles out of his chair. One of his many jobs as king is to stand strong before his people, to instill confidence in them even when he feels like his body’s failing. He doesn’t enjoy their sympathetic, worried looks when he has to lean too heavily on his cane. So he stays in his chair as they filter out of the grand hall, leaving him alone at the table. With a nod of his head, the waiting guards leave as well. All but one. 

Gladiolus lingers. He stands tall, at attention, though he’s been dismissed, until the last of his peers has disappeared. Then he strolls forward, and Regis glances curiously up. He knows Gladiolus, of course, has watched him grow from a single-minded teenager into a mature young man, but the two of them are hardly close. His approach is unusual. When Gladiolus reaches Regis’ seat, he bows all the way from his waist. As he straightens again, Regis asks, “Gladiolus. What can I do for you?”

Gladiolus squares his broad shoulders. He’s a handsome specimen, much like his father was in the early days, though Gladiolus might have even surpassed Clarus in sheer muscle mass. He’s a complete beast of a man, enormous and perfectly sculpted. He parts his bow lips, and his pink tongue pokes out, quickly tracing his bottom lip. Regis watches the movement before Gladiolus answers in his deep, rumbling purr of a voice, “I just wanted to see if you’re sure about it before you _officially_ name me as the prince’s shield, Your Majesty.”

Regis’ brow furrows. That was always the plan. Gladiolus has been guarding Noctis for years, and to instate him as Noctis’ royal shield is the only logical conclusion. Regis meets Gladiolus’ strangely heated gaze and asks, “Why would I not be sure?”

Gladiolus opens his mouth but doesn’t answer right away. It takes him a long moment to suck in a breath and suggest, “Maybe you should give me a final inspection.”

“Inspection?” Regis still doesn’t understand. That would be pointless. Gladiolus is obviously in good shape, but combat and defensive skills go far beyond physical traits. Gladiolus nods, and his hands slowly lift to his jacket. 

Regis watches, shocked and transfixed, as Gladiolus pops the buttons of his uniform open one by one. With each part he opens up, more of his chest’s revealed, and it becomes increasingly obvious that he’s wearing nothing underneath. Regis is treated to a mouth-watering view of his clavicle, his flat breasts, the deep indent beneath them and each and every line of Gladiolus’ six-pack. His tattoo’s finished, the swooping eagle complete—a far cry from the rough outline Regis last saw on him, passing by the training yard one day. He’s seen Gladiolus shirtless before. But not this close up. Now he can see every little detail and breathe in the thick smell of Gladiolus, raw _man_ mixed with faint cologne. Gladiolus spreads his jacket wide open and lets it slither down his arms. 

It hits the floor. The sound echoes through the empty chamber. Regis’ eyes trail to the deep-v and dark smattering of hair that disappear under Gladiolus’ low-riding trousers. Regis isn’t too proud to admit he’s sorely tempted. 

But he would never cross that line. He’s surprised Gladiolus would think otherwise. Evidently, Clarus’ boy is just as strong-willed as his father. Regis never took advantage of Clarus, and he won’t of Gladiolus. 

He folds his hands together over the tabletop, squeezing his fingers into his knuckles, and grits out only, “You look fine. You pass.”

Gladiolus lifts a brow. Undeterred, he drawls, “Just fine?” A slight smirk appears at the corner of his lips. He must’ve caught the interest in Regis’ eyes. “Maybe you should test my stamina too.”

Regis can’t help it—he actually chuckles. The delivery is so crude. Gladiolus frowns, and Regis tells him, “I am an old man, Gladiolus.” Before he can stop himself, he’s added, “Leave those tests for Noctis.”

Gladiolus thankfully says nothing of that, instead countering, “I’m loyal to my king first.”

“Thank you. Your loyalty is appreciated.”

Gladiolus opens his mouth, but Regis lifts a hand, silencing all retorts. Gladiolus’ jaw snaps shut again. He may be testing the boundaries, but Regis knows he won’t openly defy his king. 

Collecting his cane, Regis totters up to his feet. Gladiolus reaches out to help him, but Regis waves him away. After a quick moment to regain his equilibrium, Regis makes his exit. 

He doesn’t tell Gladiolus that he’ll be filing the moment away for future use, but only for late at night, in his private quarters, _alone_.


End file.
